


Officer

by INMH



Series: trope-bingo Fanfiction Fills 2016 (2nd Quarter) [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Lust, M/M, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Sexual Content, Spoilers, Strong Language, Uniform Kink, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Amazing how the right set of clothes on a man could look so good that you wanted to rip them all off. SPOILERS for Beyond.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I multi-ship the fuck out of almost every character in this fandom, and upon spinning the wheel to decide which characters this scenario would be applying to, I landed on Bones/Scotty.

_Eyes straight ahead._  
_  
Don’t do this to yourself._  
_  
Just don’t go there._  
  
If Scotty didn’t look, he wouldn’t be tempted.  
  
After all, his imagination wasn’t that good, was it? It was entirely too difficult to summon to mind a picture of the Chief Medical Officer in his full gray uniform, even after the solid minute he spent staring at him when he’d first stepped into the hallway. He didn’t have the picture burned into his bloody mind at all.  
  
At. All.  
  
“Hey,” McCoy grunted. “Where’s Jim?”  
  
Scotty’s brain took a moment to reconnect to his mouth, and he threw a brief (dangerous) glance in McCoy’s direction so it wouldn’t be obvious that he was trying _oh-_ so hard not to look at him. “Haven’t the foggiest. May still be in the shower.”  
  
“Typical,” McCoy muttered, and Scotty saw fidgety movement on the periphery of his vision. “We’re gonna be late waiting for him.” More fidgeting. “Scotty, do I look like I just crawled out of bed? Be honest.”  
_  
Oh fuck you and your fucking wording, Leonard McCoy._  
  
“You look fine.”  
  
“You’re not even looking at me. Seriously.”  
  
And so Scotty turned and looked at McCoy. And it was every bit as bad as he knew it would be.  
  
Because no, McCoy did not look like he just crawled out of bed. His uniform looked utterly, damnably spotless, wrinkle-free, everything in its place. Which made him look like the smart officer Scotty knew him to be.  
  
It also made him look hot.  
  
Amazing how the right set of clothes on a man could look so good that you wanted to rip them all off.  
  
Since his efforts at being good and avoiding temptation were shot to hell, Scotty made an exaggerated effort at looking McCoy up and down ( _I’m going to Helllll, I’m going to Helllll_ ) and said, “You look fine. Are you satisfied with my assessment this time, Lieutenant Commander?”  
  
“Very,” McCoy snarked back before walking over and- _naturally_ \- plopping down right next to Scotty on the bench.  
  
There was room for three people on that bench, and McCoy could have sat at the other end, but no- he sat down _right_ next to Scotty, _right_ beside him, close enough that their thighs were almost touching and _damn it_ , that is not helping.  
  
He was still fidgeting too, McCoy was. Constantly tugging at his pants, his jacket, rolling his (broad, muscle-y) shoulders, adjusting his collar; he wasn’t used to wearing the dress uniform, not after five years in space wearing mostly his normal uniform and his street-clothes in Yorktown (fuck, but he looked good in those too). More than once, his leg bumped Scotty’s and the effect was, impulsively, Scotty would turn and look at McCoy again and ohhh that was still an _awful_ idea.  
  
What could he say? Scotty liked a man in uniform.  
  
And Leonard McCoy looked damn good in most things, but especially his officer’s uniform.  
  
“What?”  
  
Shit.  
  
Leonard was looking at him, brow furrowed in confusion.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re staring at me.”  
_  
Shit._  
  
“Are you daft? No I’m not.”  
  
Whoops. That came off a tad more defensive than he’d intended.  
  
“No?”  
  
Ohhh, that tone was not good.  
  
Leonard McCoy had a dark side to him. Everyone thought the worst of it was his gruff demeanor and utter lacking in bedside manner for anything but the most dire of situations. But this man, Scotty knew, had a sadistic streak to him: He was like a cat batting around a terrified mouse. He knew how to draw out his games, prolong the torture for his victim.  
  
For example: When Scotty said nothing further on the subject of this ‘staring’ nonsense, the fidgeting just magically _stopped._ The movements became slower, more deliberate- arms stretched over the head, slouching a little in his seat with his legs ever-so-slightly parted- and if Scotty didn’t _know_ that he was being goaded, if he didn’t _know_ that Leonard had a trained eye and knew damn well when he was being admired, he could have very easily not noticed any of this.  
  
“So, Scotty,” Leonard blew out the words with an ease that had so definitely not been present in his voice a few seconds ago. “Did you have plans for the evening after the ceremony?”  
_  
Yes, actually, I was planning on going back to my room and beating myself off to the mental image of you bending me over and pounding my ass._  
  
“Not at present, no.” Jaylah had classes and Keenser (of all _fucking people_ ) had a hot date with an alien woman that was three times his height. Tonight was absolutely a night for a private rendezvous with his hand and a filthy fantasy about doctors with wandering hands.  
  
“Same,” McCoy said easily. He cast a fleeting glance down the hallway, and then fixed a truly unsettling look on Scotty. “You interested in getting a drink with me afterwards?”  
  
Scotty swallowed thickly. _Oh God._  
  
“I’m not opposed to it.”  
  
“Anything I can do to make you definitively agreeable to it?”  
  
And then, just when Scotty was starting to think this situation couldn’t get any more precarious, McCoy settled a hand on Scotty’s leg. Right above the knee, with his ring and pinky finger curling into Scotty’s thigh.  
  
Aaand there went Scotty’s dick, rocketed straight off his body and into the atmosphere, going, going, gone.  
  
“Shit.”  
  
He said it out loud and he meant it.  
  
McCoy smirked that fucking cat-that-got-the-canary smirk and gave Scotty’s leg a little squeeze. “That a yes, Lieutenant Commander?”  
  
Without thinking, Scotty covered McCoy’s hand with his own. “I- I, uh- I-” _Spit it out! This is exactly what you want! He’s opened the bloody window, haul your ass through it already!_  
  
Scotty took a deep breath. “I-”  
  
“Hey guys!”  
  
McCoy’s hand disappeared from his leg so quickly Scotty would swear it’d never been there in the first place.  
  
Kirk was scampering down the hallway with an apologetic grin on his face. “Sorry I’m late, couldn’t find my hat.”  
  
“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached,” McCoy grunted. With his hand had gone that sadistic little smile, the sinful attitude. Scotty had a sudden urge to scream; maybe at Kirk, maybe at McCoy, maybe at the ceiling, who knew.  
  
“Let’s get going, guys.”  
  
Scotty stood up sighing and straightening out his jacket.  
  
McCoy’s hand on his back made him choke.  
  
“Was that a yes or a no, Scotty?”  
  
The vaguely mischievous look in his eye was all he let show. Maybe he didn’t want Kirk getting any ideas.  
  
“What do you think, you sick bastard?” Scotty said thickly, quietly, briefly pressing back into the hand to make sure McCoy reached the correct conclusion.  
  
The good doctor’s smile was all teeth. “Excellent.”  
  
Scotty shivered.  
  
_I’m going to Hell, I’m going to Hell, I’m going to Hellll, and I’m dragging this bastard with me._  
   
-End


End file.
